Let the Reins Go Loose
by TutorGirlml
Summary: A post Season 7 daddies bonding oneshot; Rogers and Charming reflect on what they've lost and what they still have with their beloved daughters with the only other person who can really understand.


_This is a new experiment for me, but I am attempting to write a bit of a daddies bonding one shot for Wish!Hook/Rogers and David/Charming. I didn't do much writing that actually followed along with the season 7 storyline while it was happening. (Not that I didn't like it, I was just doing more straight AU or imagining what could be happening with CS back in Storybrooke.) However, if all of the realms are now joined, I could see Wish!Hook and his daughter (and Robyn) spending some time with our original cast in Storybrooke. I can also imagine Rogers/Wish!Hook and David Nolan becoming mates and having a lot in common, just as Charming did with Killian Jones before him. So, I offer you this little bit of papa angst and friendship/understanding for Captain Charming Friday – though it's really more of a Rogers Charming brotp (if that's even a thing! ;)_

" _Let the Reins Go Loose"_

 _By: snowbellewells (TutorGilml on )_

Chuckling lightly, Joel Rogers shook his head in happy disbelief watching the three horses and their young riders cantering through the tall grass in the late spring meadow. Tilting his head back to savor the light breeze caressing his face and tickling through the short tufts of his dark hair, the man both a former detective and former pirate, still enjoyed a comforting distant hint of salt sea air in the gust, even though they were some distance from his beloved ocean waves.

The other man standing just to his right clapped a strong hand to Rogers' shoulder companionably, offering a brilliant smile as well to his new friend. "See? Didn't I tell you not to worry?" he offered in that deep, jovial voice, an assured resonance that allowed the former police officer from Hyperion Heights a glimpse into just why an entire realm's subjects would follow this man as King without hesitation. Though Dave Nolan bore none of the selfish, cruel, and egotistic traits of most other rulers in Hook's long experience over two lives' worth of memories, there was a certainty, a leadership, that radiated from the shepherd-king and which one inherently trusted. "I had a feeling she'd be a natural."

Rogers cocked an eyebrow quizzically at his mate, before turning his attention back once more to his Alice, Robyn Mills, and Dave's son Neal, enjoying their horseback riding in the large field just at the edge of the deep woods – the marker where Storybrooke melted into the old Enchanted Forest on the east and Arendelle's borders to the north. "And just how did you ascertain that?" he questioned playfully.

The sandy-haired deputy (part-time these days) looked more at ease than ever, spending most of his time as a simple country farmer with some sheep to tend, watched the riders loping and criss-crossing before them as well, eyes almost misty and voice far away. He sounded thoughtful and deeply sincere when he answered, "Let's just say she reminds me of someone else who was much the same."

Rogers swallowed hard over the lump that had formed seemingly from nowhere in his throat. "Your own daughter, Dave?" he husked, voice a bit raspy while he clarified. "…Your Emma?"

David merely nodded, clearly not trusting his voice for the moment. He didn't meet the dark haired man's all-too-intuitive gaze, as for the moment he was putting up a valiant fight not to shed real tears in front of his new friend – and also somehow a version of his son-in-law – at the usually buried emotions that had risen quickly to the surface without warning as he'd been observing his now teenaged son and the two young women he had bonded easily with. Somehow the ghost of his beloved daughter, whom he had never gotten to see at this age had floated once more into his mind's eye. Though he and Snow had enthusiastically gifted Neal with his first mount, a shaggy brown pony affectionately named Cocoa and still with them, retired to pasture and often found lazing under a shade tree in the paddock's corner with Wilby the Second by his side, for their son's eighth birthday and shown him every detail of how to feed, groom, saddle, ride, and cool down his steed with as much delight as the boy himself, none of that painstaking care could erase the fact that he hadn't been able to do the same for his eldest until she was his own age and a mother herself. When he had finally taken Emma riding, it was only after her repeated, determined insistence that there was no need (probably only overcome by her husband's gentle persuasion that 'one never knew; it might come in handy' and the leering jest he didn't realize his father-in-law had overheard about the 'pleasant bonus that the rocking motion one enjoyed in a full canter wasn't unlike that of other, more enjoyable activities' – to which, at his winking nod, Emma had capitulated and agreed to give riding a try) and that she didn't require any help. Painfully, David had to watch without offering the fatherly assistance he could have and see her frustration turn into anger as several attempts at mounting the horse led to a fall flat on her backside in the dirt and a hot, sweaty, irritated Sheriff seated in the saddle, and it wasn't until a frightening moment of nearly being dragged by her startled horse when Emma dismounted with her wrist somehow tangled in the reins, thumped into her steed's side with enough force to spook him and send him skittering with her still connected – his heart had been in his throat and David was still thanking the gods that he'd been lingering close enough to latch onto the spooked creature's bridle before it could take off in earnest – and the resultant sprained wrist that left Emma on desk duty and forced to watch he and Killian take on the more physical jobs in the sheriff station for nearly two weeks, that Emma had finally accepted his instruction willingly and mastered riding. Though he wouldn't take back the time it had allowed him to spend with her – they had less now that Killian and she often patrolled together since he'd joined their Storybrooke "force" as a second deputy and he'd gone part-time to be home when Neal returned from school in the afternoons, handle the evening farm chores, and help Snow in the evenings as she often had numerous papers to grade along with older students and more complex subject matter – thankful for once that the princess moment he had imagined for his daughter could be somewhat recovered from the pile of so many forever lost, David couldn't help thinking how much easier it would have been to teach her as she _should_ have been: an eager, trusting child on a pony just her size, handpicked specifically for her, and in a world where riding was necessary and had daily, obvious use.

He shook his head free of the encroaching, unwanted melancholy thoughts at the sound of Rogers' voice breaking through, a resigned bit of sadness tingeing his words, " 'Twill never really go away, will it?" Alice's father asked softly, having clearly waited until his child had looped around closer to him with a wide, ecstatic smile spread across her face, eyes alight as she called out enthusiastically, 'Look, Papa! We're riding! Isn't it wonderful?!' and then rode away again, before speaking.

Blinking, David forced himself fully back into the present, chuckling as he saw Alice nearing Neal and Robyn again and Neal attempting to impress both young ladies by galloping full speed right to the edge of the trees, only to stand on the moving horse's back, right up to a sturdy, low-hanging branch and swing into the tree in one fluid motion. His mount was well-trained and used to his antics, merely turning when he felt his rider's weight gone and trotting back to where Neal could drop onto his back lightly once again. Both Robyn and Alice whooped and clapped at his antics, causing Neal to flush brightly even as he grinned and offered them a seated partial bow.

Shaking his head, David knew he should once again warn his son not to become overconfident and lose care when riding, but he couldn't say too much, when he knew he had probably practiced similar tactics when he and Snow had taken to the forest long ago, on the run from – and then fighting back against – two dangerously powerful usurper monarchs. Instead, he turned his attention back to Rogers' query. "What won't go away?" he asked, though he sensed he was already well aware of the answer.

The other man's gaze fell to his feet, swallowing deliberately before replying, "The regret… the sense that you failed your child, that she had to get by on her own, without you… without anyone. And though…" he licked his lip, as if needing to pause and moisten them again, gather his thoughts and emotions before he could continue, "…though you would have given anything to be there when she needed you… it doesn't change the fact that you missed so much – _too much_ – of her life."

David nodded, shielding his eyes with his hands as he gazed out to the tree line and somewhat into the setting sun. Though the sandy-haired royal was squinting and not directly meeting his eyes, the recently retired detective could work out the real reason easily enough and took no offense. Both of their emotions were far too close to the surface, and perhaps Dave sensed neither of them need bear the full scrutiny of the other's eye while they made confessions held so close to the heart – not when each had possibly found comfort in the only other listening ear who could possibly understand the burden he carried. Losing a child – knowing that child was still a young, vulnerable little girl, left alone in the world to fend for herself, when as a father both of them felt charged with protecting her – was a sort of pain one didn't shake. It wasn't easily purged nor commiserated with – unless one found another person who had made a similar such sacrifice.

When the prince did speak, his words were quietly measured as though offered with much careful thought and the wisdom of experience. "Do I ever know what you mean there," he offered with a gentle shake of his head, hand lowering to his side before continuing, "Still, no matter how much we might wish it, we can't go back. None of us can change our pasts, for better or worse. All we can do – and we can aim for – is to be here for them now; really live in the present and hope to give all they need as young adults. There's no way to make up for what we missed in their childhoods, but we can appreciate the moments we still have. I told Emma that once – even if I can't help but have regrets and forget it myself sometimes. Life is made up of moments – good and bad – and the good ones aren't all gone. Even quiet, simpler moments are worthwhile, and that's what we have more of before us now, if we'll take them."

Rogers nodded to that thoughtfully, silent other than the quiet affirmation, and his eyes focused somewhere off in the middle distance, partially watching his mostly-grown daughter happy and at ease, and partially in his mind or memory, in a time that could no longer be reached. "Aye," was the simple response he offered when he seemed to return from his reverie. "I believe my counterpart here, your son-in-law, even mentioned that to me when last we spoke in town. Your daughter must have taken your advice to heart. He said they've made it a bit of a family motto – to live for those moments."

David Nolan offered a small smile, the pleased expression lighting his visage as he nodded along with what his new friend told him. It was infinitely good to know he had still managed to impart a little fatherly wisdom to his grown child. No matter how old Emma was or how long he lived, he would still endeavor to do so when he could. Even if, much like the young people they watched reveling before them, calling to each other uproariously and laughing in the gentle early evening breeze, he mostly had to loosen his grip, let his eldest have her head and find her own way in the world, it was never an easy task for a doting father to manage.

Giving one more small, pragmatic quirk of the mouth toward his new mate, David turned and raised his arm, giving the motion to come in for the evening to the youths before them, watching with pride as Neal read his signal, wheeled his steed around, and began to lead his companions back in a race across the pasture.

It was at least some small comfort to see the light of understanding in his companion's gaze – those startlingly blue eyes displaying the same amalgam of bittersweet melancholy and gentle pride as the three riders drew near that David knew must haunt his own. He supposed that if he must let go, it was better to have another father at his side struggling to do the same and experiencing a matching sense of pain and reward that came with allowing one's children to grow up and fly free. Though the time they could hold them close and shield them from the world had been stolen from them – and it was tempting to cling too tight in response – it was a process, releasing that hold and turning them loose… made all the more treasured in those moments when their offspring chose to return.


End file.
